He stared at the ceiling, and I watched the line of his throat when he swallowed.
"Hey," I said softly.
He turned to look at me.
"I'm proud of you."
Jake winced, like I'd slapped his face with the words. Next, his eyes opened wider, glistening slightly in the dim light. For a second, I thought he might cry.
He gripped my fingers tighter. "Say it again."
"I'm proud of you, Jake Riley."
A small, broken whimper escaped before he kissed me again. I knew I'd said something no one had ever said to him before.
Pulling back from the kiss, he stared into my eyes.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing. Just..." He shook his head. "You keep surprising the hell out of me."
"How?"
"You're not running."
The words weighed heavily between us. How many people had run from Jake when things got complicated? How many times had he watched someone decide he wasn't worth the effort?
I looked down at where our fingers wove together. Jake's knuckles were slightly scraped from practice. A thin white scar I'd never noticed before ran along his thumb.
He reached out and touched the ridge of a vein on my forearm. He leaned in.
My pulse was rapid under my fingertips, and when he pressed lightly, I sucked in a sharp breath. In that moment, I wanted him so much.
I don't think I'd ever wanted anyone that much.
I gazed into his eyes, seeing my desire reflected back at me. Jake parted his lips.
"Evan, do you—"
"Soon."
He didn't ask what I meant. He didn't need to. A promise hung in the air between us—not only about sex, though that was part of it. It was also about letting him see me without my walls. Trusting him with the parts of myself I'd kept locked away since I was fifteen and learned that caring too much only led to disappointment.
I was choosing him, mess and all.
"Yeah," he breathed. "Soon."
The apartment was quiet again. The radiator wasn't hissing. No cars passed outside. No one slammed cabinet doors or sang Rihanna off-key.
Only our breathing, and Jake's fingers tangled with mine.
For the first time since Jake moved in, the silence felt warm instead of empty. Like home.
Chapter thirteen
Jake
I'd changed my shirt three times and was considering a fourth when I realized I was acting like someone who cared about podcasts.
